


Hollow Victory

by groovekittie



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Slash, Yuletide, Yuletide 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovekittie/pseuds/groovekittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when we finally get our little victories, we have to treasure them, for we never know how long they'll last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow Victory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/gifts).



> A huge thank you to my beta, goodisrelative! You always make all my stories sound so much better. Thank you!

After the graveside services were complete, Spike stood by the fresh pile of dirt and stared. He just stood there and stared at the finality of it: Lewis was gone. He supposed he should feel a wash of grief overtake him, some sort of overwhelming emotion, but instead he felt nothing. Empty.

And that was a relief more than anything.

 

* * *

 

"Coffee?"

Spike looked up to see Greg leaning against his little hatchback obstructing his access. "I dunno, boss. I - I'm not really in the mood to talk right now. Sorta want to be alone."

Greg crossed his arms and nodded his head. "Yeah, I know, but you probably shouldn't be right now."

Spike sighed and gave Greg a crooked smile. "You're not going to let me get into my car, are you?"

"Nope."

"Alright then," Spike said, waving his arm towards Greg's SUV. "Lead the way."

Greg reached out and gave Spike an encouraging pat on his shoulder. "Alright."

 

* * *

 

The two men had seated themselves in a quiet corner of a Tim Hortons on Yonge Street, their coffees dutifully in hand and their lips sealed for the moment at least.

Spike watched the people walk past the window, up and down Yonge, all blissfully unaware of their loss. Unaware that a hero had been laid to rest that day, at least until they made their way home that evening and settled themselves down in front of their televisions to watch the evening news. Suddenly, Spike felt keenly aware that he was still in his dress blues.

"You okay?" Greg asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

"It doesn't quite feel real yet. It's all a little surreal, y'know?"

Greg nodded and turned to look out the window to do a little bit of people watching of his own.

"Look, boss, I know what you're trying to do here, and I appreciate it, but it isn't necessary."

"Not sure what you mean, Spike."

"You're trying to talk me off a ledge, but I'm not on a ledge. I'm okay."

"Alright," Greg replied, and took another sip of his coffee.

"See, I don't think you believe me."

Greg smiled. "What makes you say that?"

"You're still here."

"So are you."

"Yeah ... well ..."

Greg shifted and Spike stopped. The two men looked each other in the eye and suddenly Spike felt really uncomfortable. "Jamaica wasn't just a vacation with your buddy, was it?" Greg asked softly.

And there was that overwhelming wave of emotion.

 

* * *

 

"I can't find my razor," Lew said absently. He lifted a towel that had been left damp and strewn on the hotel counter. Nope, not there either. "Shit."

"Geez, Lew. Can't you just get another one when we get back?" Spike yelled from the other room. "You're gonna make us miss our flight over a damned razor."

Lew huffed out a laugh and said, "Yeah, alright." He flicked off the bathroom light and turned to leave only to run bodily into Spike. "Woah! Snuck up on me there!"

Spike had both his arms up on either side of Lew, his hands planted firmly on the door jamb of the bathroom. "What's the password?"

"Okay, so now who's going to make us miss our flight?"

"Depends on whether or not you get the password right," Spike replied.

Lew laughed. He loved it when Spike was like this, all playful. Without thinking twice, Lew slid his arms around Spike's torso and leaned in to kiss him.

Spike hummed happily and broke off the kiss. "Mmm, nope, not the secret password."

"You're an ass. C'mon, we're going to miss our flight," Lew laughed as he gently pushed on Spike's shoulders.

 

* * *

 

"Spike?"

"No," he replied, his voice cracked. "Well, it had been at first, but not by the time we left."

"I see."

Spike took a shaky sip of his cooling mug of coffee.

"And Bridgette?"

"Who?"

Greg smiled. "The woman from your pictures."

"Right, right." Spike slowly spun his coffee mug in his hands and watched the dark liquid slosh back and forth. "She really was an old high school friend whom I hadn't seen in years. We sort of hit it off right away, but it didn't work out. She met some other guy and I didn't see her again. Lew, he sort of just walked me through it."

 

* * *

 

"Y'know I'm always here for you, man. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that," Spike said. There was a slight slump to his shoulders, a bend to his spine. Lew wasn't sure if Spike had had one too many, or was just feeling spectacularly sorry for himself. "It's just that ... it's just that - ah hell, I don't know." Spike picked up a straw laying on the bar next to his drink and began to twist it with his nimble fingers.

"What?"

"I just wish I could find something -"

Lewis turned and looked at his best friend. "Yeah? You gonna finish that sentence?"

But Spike was blushing so hard, Lewis was suddenly afraid Spike had gotten a very bad sunburn. "Hey, you okay, Spike?"

All of a sudden, Spike let loose with a rush of words so sewn together, Lewis wasn't sure he'd heard them. "Hold on. What?"

Spike sighed heavily, but repeated himself. "I wish I could find something like we have."

Lew leaned back in his chair and looked at Spike. The two remained silent, the hotel bar nearly empty except for the two of them. Finally Lew leaned forward and placed his arm across the back of Spike's chair. "So why keep looking for something you already have?"

 

* * *

 

"I'm so sorry, Spike." Greg didn't know what else to say. He hadn't realized that Spike and Lewis had gotten so close. He probably should have seen it, but with Sam and Jules so open with their relationship, or whatever it was they were in the middle of, Spike and Lew had slipped under his radar.

"Yeah, I know. Me too," Spike replied, his voice husky with unshed tears. "Just kind of unfair, y'know? Right when we finally got it figured out."

 

* * *

 

"It'll be alright, man," Lew said as he casually tilted the bottle of beer towards his lips and took a long pull. "She wasn't your type anyway."

"They never are," Spike sighed. "What is my type anyway, Lew?"

"I dunno, Spike, but it ain't her."

Spike gave a sad chuckle and raised his glass. "To Bridgette: May she rot in hell."

Lewis laughed and clapped Spike on the shoulder. "There, there. You'll find that special someone someday, Spike. Don't worry. I can feel it."


End file.
